


reshaping our uneasy redemption

by statusquo_ergo



Series: a fire in the sage's mansion [9]
Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mike goes to Harvard, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 23:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statusquo_ergo/pseuds/statusquo_ergo
Summary: Everyone leaves in the end. That's just how it is.Don't panic.





	reshaping our uneasy redemption

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Ok. So. Here we go. I wish you would write a fic where Mike and Harvey meet while attending Harvard and he already suffers from panic attacks!

The first time they cross paths, Harvey barely even notices. If not for an offhanded comment to Scottie, “Aw, remember those days,” or something equally patronizing, he probably wouldn’t remember it at all, except that the scrawny one-L hunched over his notes with an ink spot next to his mouth hears him and glares over the stacks of heavy volumes surrounding him like he wants to murder Harvey, and Harvey has the fleeting thought that he’d be cute if he wasn’t so neurotic.

The second time, Harvey might not make the connection except that apparently the book he pulls out of the stacks is the same one the kid was going after, because he sends that same glare Harvey’s way, and it’s just late enough on a Sunday night that Harvey doesn’t bother to stop himself from pointing out, “You know the only grade that actually counts for anything is the final.”

Harvey’s fairly certain the only thing stopping the kid from smashing the third edition of _International Human Rights_ over his head is the number of witnesses—that or the effort of lifting the thousand-plus page book up that high—but there’s nothing around to stop him from sharpening his glare even further and stepping directly into Harvey’s personal space.

“Some of us aren’t paying tuition with our _trust_ funds, okay?” he seethes. “I’d like to see _you_ explain an ‘Incomplete’ to the ACFE.”

Harvey pointedly flicks a bit of spittle from his cheek.

“Association of Certified Fraud Examiners,” he over-enunciates. “I knew you were a tight-ass.”

As the kid fumbles for a retort, Harvey slides the book back onto the shelf and saunters away, putting a little more effort this time into etching the kid’s face into his memory and wondering who might be able to tell Harvey his name, if he provides an accurate enough description.

In hindsight, that was the moment that really tied it all together.

\---

“Come on, Harvey, you know why he beat you.”

“Because Marie wants to fuck him.”

“No.”

“Because Ben wants to fuck him?”

“ _No!_ ” Scottie smacks him on the shoulder as Harvey holds his hand up weakly. “He beat you because you can’t commit to taking anything seriously. At this rate, I’m not even sure you’re going to graduate.”

“Sure I am,” Harvey says as he opens the door to Langdell Hall, “and anyway what do you care, it’s not like we’re partners in the middle school science fair. You don’t need me to do my share of the work for your A-double-plus.”

Scottie rolls her eyes emphatically, marching them into the library. “I have invested _far_ too much in this relationship for you to fail out, do you have any idea how embarrassing that would be for me?”

“Well at least your motives are pure.”

To his credit, and perhaps to hers as well, Scottie snorts a laugh into her hand as she walks off to hunt for some book she wants for a paper she’s writing for Administrative Law, and Harvey sticks his hands in his pockets and begins scuffing his heels along the floor.

“Could you not?”

Smirking to himself, Harvey looks toward the sound of Mike’s grumpy voice and ambles over to the fairly sizeable table he’s somehow managed to occupy almost entirely by himself. Leaning against one of the smaller stacks of books scattered around, Harvey crosses his arms over his chest and looks up at the high ceiling.

“So who pissed in your corn flakes _this_ morning?”

Mike glares at him. “How is it that I see you in here almost every day, and yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen you doing anything other than being an asshole?”

Unfolding his arms to inspect his nails, Harvey sniffs arrogantly. “Some are born great,” he preens, “some have greatness thrust upon them.”

“Oh, so you _do_ know how to read.”

“My secret shame.”

Mike grins and turns back to his notes.

“Are you seriously just here to bother me?”

“No,” Harvey admits as he turns around to peer at Mike’s writing. “Scottie needs a book, I’m just here to balm my wounded pride.”

“Stemple beat you at Mock Trial again?”

“Third time in a row.”

Nodding sympathetically, Mike pats his hand. “Well, whenever you’re feeling down, just remember the most important thing.”

Harvey arches his eyebrows. “Mock trial’s no substitute for the real deal?”

“Your record might be zero and three,” Mike says, “but his name is always going to be Archibald.”

Making a truly lackluster effort to stifle his laughter, just in case they haven’t already destroyed the placidity of the library with their none-too-subtle conversation, Harvey cuffs Mike on the back of the head and steps away from his table when he spies Scottie returning with whatever book she needed, presumably, plus two others.

“You’re a good kid, Mike.”

“Hey Harvey?”

Harvey turns at the surprising smallness of Mike’s voice and presses his lips together as he tries to think of something comforting to say, even though he doesn’t know what the problem is, or if there’s even anything wrong at all.

Then Mike smiles weakly, and yeah, this is something.

“I can do this, right?”

The answer is yes. The answer has to be yes, the answer Mike is fishing for is yes. If Harvey was a good friend, he would say yes, and he wouldn’t have to think twice about it. Of course, if Harvey was a good friend, a better friend, someone who didn’t just talk to Mike when they happened upon each other trying to study, or pretending to, he might actually know enough about him to say more than just yes; he might know enough to say “Yes, and this is why.”

If Harvey didn’t take Mike for granted.

Harvey smiles back and decides not to think about it.

“Looks to me like you’re already doing it,” he observes with a pointed glance at the books and papers Mike is one accidental table nudge from being crushed by. Mike scowls petulantly and Harvey grins, shaking his head.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Mike, law school is hard as hell. But you know what I will tell you,” he says as he steps back to Mike’s side, leaning in to give them the illusion of privacy, “is that when I got here, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I was totally out of my depth, making shit up as I went along. So you know what I did?”

Mike purses his lips, resting his chin on his fist. “What.”

Harvey leans in closer. “I dominated. I figured out what I needed to get done and I did it, I convinced everyone I worked a hundred hours a day.”

“And you were actually…”

“Jerking off the entire time,” Harvey dismisses easily. “But my point is that you’re working a hell of a lot harder than I did when I was a one-L. You know that you want this, and you’re gonna work that much harder for it. And if I survived it, then you can, too.”

Fuck surviving it; Mike is going to kick everyone’s asses.

Harvey pats him on the back and steps away again.

“Good luck, kid.”

Mike nods slowly, an endearing smile stealing across his face as he turns back to his notes and skims through the book beside him at a truly inhuman speed that Harvey’s decided to merely be quietly amazed by.

“Was that Mike?”

Harvey winces when Scottie sidles up to him on his way out the door.

“Keep your claws off him,” he mutters as they pass the checkout desk.

She smirks lasciviously. “How much longer before your first sleepover?”

“Being that I’m not a nine year old girl, I’m gonna go with ‘never.’”

“Just let me know so I can make sure I have other plans.”

“I didn’t think there was anyone left on campus who’d fall for your act.”

“If you don’t think Matthew Millstone has been dying to get into my pants since first year, you’re even dumber than I thought.”

Smiling condescendingly, Harvey unzips his jacket pockets and slides his hands inside. “It’s not going anywhere with Mike, don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” Scottie agrees as she mimics his posture, “I’ve only known him for thirty seconds and I can already tell he’s too good for you.”

Harvey laughs mockingly. Yeah, it’s alright, he’s in on the joke.

It’s fine.

\---

Harvey is roughly one indecipherable footnote away from giving up on this stupid paper, having slammed his books shut no fewer than eight times so far and sworn, each and every one of them, that this obscure precedent or that outdated tort was the last fucking straw.

The only problem is that every time he thinks about stopping, visions fill his mind’s eye of Mike huddled over his notes in the library, forging ahead in his mission to read every single book ever printed on the subject of law, pushing himself to learn everything that anyone has to teach him, worrying that his scholarship is going to be pulled at the drop of a hat even though Harvey can see from miles away that he deserves every cent he’s getting, and it’s kind of hard to justify quitting after all that.

The semester’s more than half over, anyway; Harvey is running low on chances to follow Mike’s example, and he’s already wasted enough time. This is just one essay; he’ll finish it before the weekend’s out.

Resting his chin in his palm, Harvey looks out the window, across the yard to Massachusetts Avenue. “Wasted enough time,” what a lark. He’s wasted his entire goddamn education.

No, no. Jessica is paying for him to get his Harvard-certified JD so she can justify hiring him at Pearson Hardman, this is all just a means to an end. He doesn’t need a list of extracurriculars to show off to some recruiter, he doesn’t need a stack of recommendation letters to insert himself into the ranks of the biggest firm he’s never even heard of. He’s doing what needs to be done and he’s doing it well.

Shaking his head, he turns back to a reference book that he badly wants to throw into the incinerator and tries to resume reading. It’s not that bad, really. Anyway, he can write better than this shit. He can, and he will, and he is. Just this one essay, no big deal.

His mind begins to drift as he scans the minuscule text; when, exactly, did he become so afraid of disappointing Mike? When did Mike become such a positive influence on his life where so many others who had tried much harder had failed so spectacularly? They’ll be apart soon enough, of course, probably never to cross paths again; maybe that has something to do with it, that lack of long-term accountability. Harvey will have to become his own inspiration soon enough, finding success on its own merits. For himself, no one else.

He takes a deep breath in and blows it out slowly. He’s done it before, and he can do it again.

Don’t panic.

\---

“Hey! Harvey!”

Pausing a moment, giving himself time to be sure that it was his name being called as opposed to, say, a strangely slurred “Martin” or something, Harvey turns around to find Mike jogging toward him, his messenger bag slug across his chest like a hipster and an impressively overstuffed binder clutched to his chest. Harvey smiles and moves his hand in some weird half-wave, half-salute thing that he doesn’t put nearly enough thought into as Mike draws near.

“Major Houlihan,” Harvey greets cheerfully.

“Captain Pierce,” Mike returns easily, and Harvey grins.

“So where are you off to with all this crap?” he asks, gesturing toward Mike’s bag and eyeing his wool coat suspiciously.

“Home for the holidays, gonna spend New Year’s with my gram. Catch up with my best friends.” Digging around in his pocket, Mike unearths a train ticket that he brandishes in Harvey’s face. “Northeast Regional, I should be pulling into Penn Station in about nine hours.”

Harvey scoffs. “If you’re lucky. Wait,” he realizes abruptly, “you live in New York?”

Nodding, Mike slips the ticket back into his coat. “Born and bred.”

Harvey hums softly. But no, it doesn’t mean anything. New York is a big city, packed with millions of people; it’s pure coincidence that they both live there, no surprise that they’ve never crossed paths. Even now that he knows, nothing will change; they’ll drift apart after Harvey graduates, they won’t take advantage of the fact that they’re within a single subway ride of one another.

Everyone leaves. That’s a fact.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” Mike interrupts his thoughts with a startled note, as though this is some sort of major revelation. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you outside of the library.”

“Back at you,” Harvey retorts quickly. “I just figured you lived under one of the tables. Or in the ceiling, surviving on the moisture you sucked from the rafters.”

“He’s a comedian!” Mike cries, spreading his arms wide as Harvey wrings his wrist and takes a shallow bow. “No, but, really, can we keep in touch or something?”

It’s endearing, in a naïve sort of way he wouldn’t have expected of Mike, who was forged in hardships he doesn’t like to talk about but must have put him through hell to get to where he is. It’s sweet that he thinks people go out of their way to talk to each other when they’re apart, that people make an effort when they don’t have to.

“You’ll be gone for two weeks,” Harvey says dryly. “I’ll write you a letter, and you’ll get back here before it even gets to you.”

“Okay,” Mike presses, “but there’s this thing called the telephone, and I don’t know if they had them when you were a kid but it’s a really fantastic invention, you dial these numbers—”

“Alright,” Harvey stops him, “alright, fine, give me your number.”

Grinning brightly, Mike rips a scrap off one of the papers in his binder and fishes around in his bag for a pen. Harvey folds his arms and shifts his weight to his right leg; alright, maybe this one is actually going to stick.

Except, no. He knows better; he’s learned his lesson. Over and over.

Don’t freak out, but sooner or later, everyone leaves.

Deep breath.

\---

Mike comes back for spring semester with shadows under his eyes and a weary softness that he tries to mask with toothy smiles and broad gestures.

Harvey asks him if he needs any help with his Con Law homework and tries not to fear the worst.

It’s probably nothing.

Calm down.

\---

“Harvey!”

Stopping at the top of the steps to Langdell, Harvey turns from Scottie’s unsubtle side-eye to find Mike rushing toward them.

“You’re gonna fall flat on your ass and I am going to laugh so hard,” Harvey calls back as Mike takes the steps two at a time, stopping short just below the platform level.

“You’d get him an ice pack and you know it,” Scottie decries while Harvey rolls his eyes. “Hey Mike.”

“Hey Dana.”

“Scottie.”

“Miss Scott.”

Scottie sets her hands on her hips with a huff, and Harvey smiles to himself.

“What’d you want?”

Mike bounces on the balls of his feet like he’s running on pure caffeine, looking exactly as a one-L ought to this time of year; Harvey knows it well, having seen it on the faces of every single one of his classmates back in the day.

“I passed my finals!”

Well of course he did.

“Congratulations!” Scottie says, and Harvey slaps his shoulder affectionately.

“Nice work.”

“I haven’t gotten the results yet, technically, but, I know, you know?” Mike assures them, or possibly himself. “This is fucking unreal. And now I’m supposed to do it again. Two more times? Plus all that studying shit, there’s no way, I’m definitely going to die.”

“You are not,” Harvey berates him, but Mike only shakes his head.

“Yeah, like I’ll be able to survive without you making fun of me all the time. But, whatever, next year. But graduation’s at the end of the month, right, so like three weeks, right, so can I come, or is this a family-only kind of thing?”

Family? What family? His mother, to whom he hasn’t spoken in years? His father, who’s constantly on tour in a desperate attempt to fill his life with meaning after the collapse of his marriage? His brother, who swears that this time he’ll stick to the program, this time Gamblers Anonymous is going to work?

For now, he has Jessica. Jessica, looking out for him. Jessica, having his back. Jessica, who hasn’t left yet, who he’ll cling to as long as he can. Jessica, who won’t leave until she’s gotten what she needs, who’s holding his future in her hands. It’s a delicate thing, isn’t it, when he really thinks about it. Jessica will abandon him like all the rest, but not for awhile yet, so it’s okay.

There’s no point in dwelling. Everyone leaves; he knows it well. A fact of life.

“Of course you can come,” Scottie says with a sly glance in Harvey’s direction. “Just make sure you show up on time for all the grandeur.”

Mike keeps grinning. “Awesome!”

Awesome.

The grandeur commemorating their trials and tribulations, all the work they’ve put in and all that they’ve accomplished. All that Jessica’s tried to give him that he’s pissed away. All they’re leaving in their wake, all that Mike has to look forward to without Harvey there to make fun of him.

It’ll be fine, though, because Harvey is used to being alone, Harvey is used to people leaving the way that they do, and Harvey can survive this, he’s done it before. Everyone leaves, and that’s just the way it goes.

It’ll be fine. It will. It will.

Except that Mike wanted to keep in touch over winter break. Except that Mike spent as much time as he could at the library on the off chance that he would run into Harvey. Except that Mike somehow persuaded him to work harder, to do his best, where so many others had failed so badly. And now Mike is leaving, because everyone does, and he was ready for Scottie to go, because their friendship was fun and flirty but it’s always been site-specific, it was always going to be circumstantial.

“Harvey?”

Everyone leaves, but Mike was supposed to be different. Mike was going to be different, Mike has always been different, somehow, without meaning to, without trying. And Mike made an effort, and Mike is still making an effort, and Mike _is_ different, but this time _Harvey_ is the one going off to a new future and leaving his old past behind, and _he’s_ the one leaving, because everyone does, eventually, and this is for the best, it is, even though it doesn’t feel like it right now, but it is, it is—

“Harvey!”

Scottie lays her hand on his back, his trembling, heaving back, and Harvey lurches his shoulder, throwing her off as Mike stops bouncing on the balls of his feet, his fists stop clenching and unclenching and he points to the library and says something that sounds like “Calm down,” sounds like “Get some water,” maybe an order, a command, and Scottie flees the premises because that’s what people do, people leave, always, all the time, why should now be any different, why should Mike be any different, really—

“Harvey,” Mike says firmly, and he’s here, he’s still here, for now, it’s enough, but soon—

“Harvey, I think you’re having a panic attack. You’re going to be fine, I just need you to breathe.”

“I know,” Harvey tries to snap, tries to shout, because he does, he knows, but it comes out a gritty whisper, and Mike only nods rhythmically, follow the beat, that’s right.

“Okay,” Mike says, holding out a bottle of water from god knows where, materializing out of thin air. “Okay, just breathe. That’s good. Here, here’s some water, you want a drink?”

Grasping the bottle with trembling fingers, Harvey tries to twist the top off, but there’s nothing there, and Mike must have taken it, Mike knows what he’s doing, Mike has been here before but that won’t stop him from leaving, it won’t stop him from going off the way that everyone does, except that Harvey’s the one leaving this time, Harvey’s the one doing the abandoning, Harvey’s the one with this filth on his hands—

“Can you drink?” Mike asks. “Here, it’s water. That’s all, just a sip. Come on, Harvey, deep breaths, you’re okay. I’m here, everything’s fine.”

Mike is here, yeah, sure, for now, but not—

“You’re okay. Everything’s okay. We’re at the library, on the steps, we’re fine. You want to hold my hand?”

Harvey clasps Mike’s hand as hard as he can, squeezing his fingers tight, and Mike lets him, Mike waits, Mike knows. Mike has been here before.

Mike is here now.

The lights begin to fade, the colors re-defined as the world comes back into focus, as the dizziness melts away, leaving only the here and now. Reality as it is, rather than as he sees it, as he fears it.

Don’t panic. Everything is alright.

“Jesus Christ,” Harvey mutters.

Mike twitches his fingertips, and Harvey drops his hand as he sits on the ground and breathes his labored breaths.

“Fuck.”

Mike sits beside him, and Harvey figures it should probably be raining. For atmosphere.

“I had panic attacks for a little while,” Mike confides. “After my parents died.”

Harvey sniffs.

“So, just, you shouldn’t be scared or anything.”

Harvey sighs.

“I’m not,” he murmurs. “I’ve had them since I was sixteen. When I caught my mom cheating on my dad.”

Mike nods slowly, and Harvey rubs his hand across his face.

“Never had one in public before.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Mike digs his fingernail into one of the imperfections in the stone beneath them.

“Um,” Scottie ventures nervously, stepping closer with a bit of a shuffle. “Harvey, I’m going to…go, okay, I… I still want to check out that article.”

Harvey nods. “Thanks, Scottie.”

“But, but let me know if you need anything, okay, I’ll— I’ll be here, just…talk to me.”

Harvey tries to smile.

“Thanks, Scottie.”

Making some agreeable humming sounds, Scottie backs away, toward the big double doors, and fumbles at her back for the knob until she has to turn around and let them out of her sight.

Harvey sighs, and Mike looks at him tenderly.

“You gonna be okay?”

Harvey tilts his face up to the disrespectfully sunny sky.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Mike lowers his eyes to the ground.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” he says. “But we’ll still keep in touch. There’s this amazing invention—”

“It won’t be the same.”

I know it. You know it. Let’s not pretend this is going to be anything other than what it is, let’s not do ourselves that disservice.

Mike pinches his lips together and sets his hands on his knees.

“I know.”

Yeah.

Harvey sighs.

“You know the weirdest part,” he speculates, “is that it’s not just that I’m going to miss _you._ It’s like you’ve become this symbol of every good thing in my life, of every single lucky break, and when you’re gone, all of that’s gonna go too, like Jessica is going to withdraw her job offer, and I’ll never see Scottie again, and I’ll be left with this degree I didn’t really earn and no prospects and no idea what to do with myself. And you’ll become insanely successful and have your name in all the papers, and then one day I’ll show up on your doorstep with holes in my sneakers and a rap sheet a mile long and beg you for a chance, because hey remember when we knew each other at Harvard, and I helped you out that one time we both wanted the same book out of the library and I gave it to you, because I’m such a nice guy?”

“Yeah,” Mike murmurs. “And I accused you of having a trust fund.”

Oh. Oh, that’s nice. Harvey didn’t know that he remembered.

“Kind of misread that one.”

“Sorry about that.”

Harvey laughs under his breath, and Mike skates his fingers across the edge of the steps.

“Who’s Jessica?”

Right. Yes, that’s right. They’re separate people, aren’t they, leading separate lives. It’s only been a few months, hasn’t it, since they first met. Isn’t it funny, though, how it seems like so much longer? Funny how it feels like Mike already knows everything worth knowing, like Harvey doesn’t have any secrets left to keep.

“She’s a senior partner at Pearson Hardman LLC,” he says softly. “I used to work in the mailroom there, until one day I showed her this report some associate had backdated, and now she’s paying for me to get my JD here so she can hire me. They only hire from Harvard,” he explains, “so the planning phase didn’t take very long; she’s sending me to the DA’s office after I graduate, so I can get some practical experience first.”

Mike nods.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a moment, looking down at their feet, until Mike takes a deep breath and picks his head up.

“When I was eleven, my parents were killed by a drunk driver, and five years later I cut class on parent-teacher conference day at my high school, so Father Walker— It was a Catholic school,” he elaborates, “Father Walker was the priest, and he gave me an F on a paper I wrote for History, so I transferred to public school for my senior year.”

Mike sort of smiles as his words stop short, drawing his lips thin in an awkward parody of a grin, and Harvey wonders how many people know all that he’s just been told. Who knows…any of it. No one at Harvard, probably; Mike hates being thought of as “the scholarship kid,” and if anyone found out he has the orphan card to throw around, he’d never be taken seriously again.

And he’s given it to Harvey.

Just…given it to him.

“I still want you in my life, Mike.”

Biting his lip, Mike shakes his head.

“You’re gonna outgrow me pretty soon.”

“What?”

Harvey stares, aghast, but Mike only shrugs.

“That’s what happens when people are apart for too long,” he says, too casually. “That’s what happened to me and Tess, and Trevor, and it’s what’ll happen to me and you.”

“Mike—”

“Look, I get it,” he says quickly, raising his hands and gesturing jerkily as he rants: “It’s okay. It’s what happens. We’ll try, but— I— Tess and Trevor were my best friends when I was a kid,” he blurts out, “we did everything together, but then my parents died, and they tried to be there for me, but I, I didn’t want to talk to them, I didn’t want to talk to anyone, so I just— I threw myself headfirst into my schoolwork, I completely shut them out, and then, at winter break, when I went home, I tried to talk to them again, I tried to reconnect, you know, I thought it might be nice, now that I have some direction, some stability, but it had, it had been too long, we’re too different, and now I get it, I know that when people are apart for a long time, when they grow in different directions, they just…”

His hands pause for a moment in the air before Mike drops them back to his lap, his chin falling to his chest as he looks away, and Harvey rests his hand on his back.

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know.

Not that he had any reason to, but, well. That hardly matters now.

Mike rubs his fingers against his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t think I will, though.”

Mike smiles blindly.

“Good.”

“No,” Harvey says, “not that. Mike, I was serious when I said I want you in my life, okay, I don’t… I know we’re going to be in different places,” he starts again, “we’re going to be doing different things, and it’ll be harder, but I really like you. Alright, you make me work harder, you make me _want_ to work harder, you make me want to do _more,_ and I feel like I’ve known you all my life, and all I can think of now is that I wish I’d gotten to know you better while I had the chance. But I’m not dying, okay,” he presses on as Mike drops his forehead to his knees, “I’m just moving back to the city, and just because we’re not gonna see each other every day doesn’t mean I don’t want to be there for you when you need me.”

Mike mumbles something to the ground, and Harvey leans down a little closer to his face.

“What?”

“You’ll get sick of me,” he says loudly, lifting his head up.

“I haven’t yet,” Harvey points out, and Mike snorts a laugh.

“I though I was supposed to be the one comforting _you._ ”

“How the tables have turned,” Harvey quips, “how the might have fallen.”

“You’re such a dick.”

Harvey grins.

“Look,” he says. “How about we just give it a try? I’m going back to the city, I’m going to work at the DA’s for awhile, you’re going to stay here and finish your JD, you’re going to graduate with honors, and we’ll keep in touch. We’ll talk, we’ll write, we’ll—visit, I don’t know, we’ll see how it goes.”

Mike turns to him with his bright eyes, shining a little in the sun, or maybe he’s trying not to cry, but it doesn’t really matter which.

“I’m really gonna miss you.”

Reaching out, Harvey slides his hand across Mike’s shoulders and pulls him in for a clumsy little hug.

“Me too.”

But maybe it won’t be so bad.

\---

“I don’t feel comfortable with this.”

Cameron Dennis, District Attorney, sets his hands on his hips and prowls a step in Harvey’s direction.

“I don’t give a shit whether you feel comfortable or not,” he snarls, baring his incisors like a hunting dog. “This is my case. We’re not disclosing it. It’s done.”

Harvey presses his lips together and tries to stand his ground.

Sooner or later, everyone leaves.

\---

“So can I come to graduation, or is this a family-only kind of thing?”

Freezing where he stands at the door to Langdell, Mike turns on his heel to find Harvey standing a few steps below, Scottie hanging from his shoulder as they both grin up at him. A wide smile blossoms on his face before he can stop it; Harvey was right to warn that phone calls wouldn’t be the same, that letters wouldn’t be enough, and they haven’t seen each other in person in nearly a year now, thanks in no small part to the RICO case taking up all of Harvey’s time since last winter, when Mike came home for break with the firmly dashed hope that they’d be able to manage something as simple as getting together for dinner to talk about anything other than the law.

Not that he isn’t happy for Harvey, having the opportunity to work in such a prestigious office, but, well. It might’ve been nice, is all.

“I wish I’d known you were coming,” he bemoans as he makes his way toward them. “Graduation this year’s invitation only.”

“If you think this university is going to risk offending one of the most prolific factions of its donor pool,” Scottie says, “then I’m not sure you deserve that diploma after all.”

“By ‘prolific,’ you mean ‘filthy rich.’”

“Be nice to me,” she retorts. “I flew here all the way from London and I brought your sugar daddy with me.”

“I’m offering him a job,” Harvey says as he shrugs her off, “not buying him silk lingerie.”

Mike slides his hands into his pockets with a smirk. “I wouldn’t say no to a nice black slip.”

“You want to dress in drag, you do it on your own time.”

“I could pull it off! I’ve got soft features.”

“You guys are disgusting,” Scottie says cheerfully, setting one hand on Harvey’s back and the other on Mike’s. “I’m going to find Professor Dyson. Mike, it was lovely to see you again; Harvey,” she smacks her hand down on his shoulder, “remember you’re in a public place.”

“Bye Scottie!” Mike calls as she trots down the steps, waving back at them. “Now,” he turns his attentions back to Harvey, “what’s this about, I’m sorry, did you say a _job?_ ”

Harvey begins to laugh, a sharp parry already on the tip of his tongue when he notices the minute widening of Mike’s eyes, the way his shoulders curve just slightly forward, rounding his back and protecting his chest; even after all this time, after all the work he’s done and everything he’s struggled through, the three job offers Harvey happens to know he has lined up aside from the one he’s about to receive, Mike is still convinced he isn’t good enough. Still doesn’t think he’s worthy of success. Everything good is just a fragile distraction waiting to be ripped away at the worst possible moment, and Mike is strong and smart and determined but he can’t let himself become truly submersed in anything, always holding onto that lifeline of being ready to let go.

There’ll be time enough to put a stop to that.

But first.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you,” Harvey dismisses, stepping up to the landing to meet Mike, “but you remember Jessica?”

“The senior partner who bankrolled your education,” Mike rattles off at once.

Harvey nods. “Now I’m not saying she was wrong; working at the DA’s was great experience, but once you find out your boss is burying evidence, the glow starts to wear off, you know? So I’m moving back to Pearson Hardman when I get back to the city—”

“Excuse me,” Mike interrupts, “your boss was doing _what?_ ”

Harvey opens his mouth for a flippant retort, but the words stick in his throat, a strange sort of heat settling across his chest and around his back, down his spine. He’s going back to Pearson Hardman, he’s going back to Jessica, where he belongs, but he spent— _Two years_ he was suckered in at the DA’s office, two years spent as an unwitting co-conspirator. Two years he’d give anything to wipe off the map.

And now he wants Mike to come and work _with_ him? Like he’s some sort of role model, some kind of good example.

“Harvey?”

Harvey blinks, Mike’s nervous face sliding into focus.

That’s right. Just breathe.

He smiles.

“It’s a long story.”

Mike nods slowly. “Alright,” he allows. “So…you’re moving back to Pearson Hardman?”

Oh, Mike.

Harvey doesn’t deserve him.

“Yeah,” he says a little thickly, pausing to clear his throat. “And after I talked Jessica into giving me my own secretary, I told her about this smartass kid about to graduate from Harvard who she’d better snatch up before someone else got ahold of him.”

Mike raises his eyebrows skeptically. “You want me to turn down an offer from WilmerHale for you?”

“You really want to move to D.C.?” Harvey counters, and Mike leans in to jostle his shoulder.

“Alright, you got me there.”

“Yeah.”

Harvey’s vision softens as he looks at Mike, trying to take in all of him at once; his quiet delight at Harvey’s surprise appearance and his understanding acceptance of whatever Harvey’s willing to give him, whatever he’s able to share. His easy camaraderie and his natural fit into Harvey’s life, all the ways their similarities match up and their differences lock them into place.

The way Mike stayed, and he did the same.

“You know,” he says idly, turning to look out over the grounds sprawled below them, “I was reading the PH employee handbook on the way out here, and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t count as improper fraternization if you’re already dating before you start working together.”

“Mm.” Mike nods sagely, folding his hands behind his back. “Good policy.”

Harvey purses his lips. “I’m just saying.”

After a second, Mike steps closer, looking right into Harvey’s eyes.

“How long have you been waiting to ask me out?”

Good question.

“Maybe…two years?”

“Harvey.”

Harvey smirks, tipping his head down shamefacedly.

“About two months.”

Narrowing his eyes, Mike glares at him accusingly. “Since spring break?” he demands. “I was _home_ on spring break, you asshole! You said you were too busy to see me!”

“I was!” Harvey swears. “And I didn’t want to distract you right before your exams!”

Mike scowls. “You’re just a cowardly bastard, aren’t you.”

Harvey laughs softly; he doesn’t even know the half of it.

Or maybe the thing is that he does, and he doesn’t care.

“So will you go out with me or what?”

Taking another step forward, closing the last of the distance between them, Mike leans in to set his chin on Harvey’s shoulder; after a moment’s pause, Harvey rests his hands on Mike’s hips.

“I missed you,” Mike murmurs.

Harvey smiles.

“That a yes or a no?”

Turning his head slightly, Mike presses his lips to Harvey’s cheek.

“What do you think?”

Harvey’s smile widens as he leans back, moving one of his hands up to cradle Mike’s face and kiss him properly as his heart beats a little faster, warmth spreading through his body and up across his face.

“I think,” he says when they part, “that you and I are going to be together for a very long time. And,” he adds impulsively, “I think if you’re not careful, you’re going to be late for graduation.”

Mike’s brow creases bewilderedly. “Graduation’s tomorrow.”

“Oh, I know.”

It only takes an instant for his features to smooth out as Mike drapes his arm across Harvey’s neck. “I guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

Mike tries to roll his eyes exasperatedly at Harvey’s lecherous grin; it only kind of works.

“Let’s see what happens.”

Harvey wraps his arm around Mike’s waist. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Mike smiles.

“Works for me.”

That’s goddamn right.

**Author's Note:**

> The ACFE (Association of Certified Fraud Examiners) runs the [Ritchie-Jennings Memorial Scholarship Program](http://www.acfechicago.org/Scholarships/Ritchie-Jennings_Memorial_Scholarship_Program/), which awards law students scholarship amounts of up to $10,000.
> 
> Margaret Houlihan and Hawkeye Pierce are characters from the novel, film, and television show _M*A*S*H_. Houlihan, an RN, is a proponent of strict military discipline, and Pierce, the unit’s Chief Surgeon, is a wisecracking prankster and womanizer.
> 
> A train ride from Cambridge to New York City takes a little over five and a half hours.
> 
> [WilmerHale](https://www.wilmerhale.com/en) is an extremely prestigious law firm, headquartered in Washington, D.C., which has a long history of pro bono work.
> 
> “Look, you were giving me shit this morning because I come and go when I want to. You know why I can do that? Because when I got here, I dominated. They thought I worked a hundred hours a day. Now, no matter what time I get in, nobody questions my ability to get the job done. Get it through your head. First impressions last. If you start behind the eight ball, you’ll never get in front.”  
> —Harvey (to Mike), “[Inside Track](https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=suits&episode=s01e03)” (s01e03)
> 
> “Need I remind you that when we first met, you were a screw-up? I gave you a shot at the mail room, led you up the ranks, and then paid for you to go to Harvard, where, by the way, you jerked off the entire time you were there.”  
> —Jessica (to Harvey), “[Pilot](https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=suits&episode=s01e01)” (s01e01)
> 
> “I don’t feel comfortable with this.”  
> “I don’t give a shit whether you feel comfortable or not. This is my case. We’re not disclosing it. It’s done.”  
> —Harvey and Cameron Dennis, “[The Other Time](https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=suits&episode=s03e06)” (s03e06)
> 
> “I just pictured you in drag.”  
> “I could pull that off. I’ve got soft features.”  
> —Harvey and Mike, “[Tricks of the Trade](https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=suits&episode=s01e06)” (s01e06)
> 
> “The next time I saw you was Con Law. You answered the first question that Dyson asked, and I knew that, that face that blew me away was your second best asset.”  
> —Harvey (to Scottie), “[The Arrangement](https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=suits&episode=s03e01)” (s03e01)
> 
> “Terms are non-negotiable. You get what I give you.”  
> “Fine by me. But I’m getting my own secretary.”  
> “Associates don’t get their own secretaries.”  
> “This isn’t about the associate, it’s about the secretary. And I’m not coming here without her.”  
> “She must be very special.”  
> “She is.”  
> “Difference comes out of your pocket.”  
> “As long as she never knows.”  
> “Welcome back, Harvey. You start Monday.”  
> —Jessica and Harvey, “The Other Time” (s03e06)
> 
> Hannum, H., Lillich, R. B., & Anaya, L. S. J. (1995). _International Human Rights: Problems of Law, Policy, and Practice (Casebook)_ (3rd ed.). New York: Aspen Publishers.


End file.
